As Arctic ice retreats and new maritime routes open, Europe risks repeating one of its most damaging strategic errors: confusing diplomacy with deterrence, and autonomy with fragmentation. By downplaying U.S. security imperatives in Greenland and the High North, Europeans are drifting toward what Zbigniew Brzezinski once warned against as “competitive détente”—a pattern that weakened the West during the Cold War and now risks empowering both Russia and China.
The Arctic is no longer a peripheral theater. It is rapidly becoming a navigable, militarized corridor where Russian submarine patrols, undersea infrastructure, and Chinese “research” vessels with dual-use capabilities are proliferating. The United States understands this shift with clarity. Much of Europe, by contrast, responds with procedural reflexes—invoking sovereignty, NATO norms, and multilateral process—while resisting the only actor capable of providing credible deterrence at scale.
This reflex has a history. After the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, Zbigniew Brzezinski, then U.S. National Security Adviser, warned European leaders—most pointedly Chancellor Helmut Schmidt— against allowing the Western response to fragment. In consultations preserved at the Carter Presidential Library and later published in Foreign Relations of the United States, Brzezinski cautioned against a situation in which Europeans would “each approach the Soviets with different solutions,” competing to normalize relations rather than sustaining collective pressure. He called this drift “competitive détente.” The danger, he argued, was not excessive confrontation, but allied indiscipline.
The cost of ignoring that warning was not abstract. By the end of the 1970s, Ostpolitik had already delivered its strategic payload: Soviet gas pipelines into Western Europe were built, contracts signed, and dependency structurally embedded. What had been presented as pragmatic engagement hardened into durable leverage for Moscow. Dialogue had outpaced strategy; economics had overridden security.
That pattern reappeared four decades later—this time in plain sight.
During his first term, Donald Trump repeatedly warned European leaders that their growing dependence on Russian gas—particularly through Nord Stream 2—was a strategic vulnerability, not a commercial choice. Speaking at NATO meetings and before the United Nations in 2018, he bluntly argued that Germany was making itself “captive to Russia” by financing its principal adversary while relying on the United States for security guarantees. The message was dismissed as crude, transactional, or ideologically suspect. Chancellor Angela Merkel defended Nord Stream as a purely economic project. Ursula von der Leyen, then Germany’s defense minister and later President of the European Commission, shared the prevailing view that interdependence would stabilize relations.
History proved otherwise. When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, Europe discovered—suddenly and painfully—that Trump’s warning had been strategically correct. Energy dependence became coercion; pipelines became pressure points. What had been framed as economic rationality revealed itself as geopolitical exposure. Once again, Europe had treated dependence as dialogue—and paid the price.
This was precisely the logic Brzezinski had articulated decades earlier. Détente without discipline collapses into leverage for the adversary. Interdependence with a revisionist power is rarely symmetrical. That diagnosis formed the intellectual bridge to the Reagan–Thatcher correction. Ronald Reagan did not overturn Brzezinski’s analysis; he operationalized it. Opposition to the Siberian gas pipeline was not, in Reagan’s view, a trade dispute but a strategic necessity. “We are not going to finance our own destruction,” he said, giving blunt political form to Brzezinski’s warning that Europe was underwriting Soviet power while tying its own prosperity to an adversary’s goodwill.Margaret Thatcher shared that clarity. Dialogue was possible, she argued, but only from a position of deterrence. “Deterrence is not warmongering,” she insisted, “it is the surest means of preserving peace.” Together, Reagan and Thatcher restored discipline to the Atlantic alliance: rearmament, the NATO dual-track decision, and a clear hierarchy of priorities. Europe could debate tactics—but not freelance. Negotiation would be collective, conditional, and grounded in strength.
That discipline is eroding once again.
Today, faced with U.S. calls to strengthen Arctic defenses—expanded basing, integrated surveillance, protection of undersea infrastructure—European leaders reach for familiar evasions. Mineral cooperation frameworks, Nordic diplomacy, EU defense clauses, and even selective engagement with Chinese capital are offered as substitutes for a stronger American security footprint. The logic is Ostpolitik reborn: manage rivalry through process, dilute confrontation through pluralism, and hope economics will tame geopolitics.
Denmark’s predicament is emblematic. Copenhagen invokes NATO solidarity and rallies allies, yet lacks the hard power to secure Greenland against hybrid, maritime, or undersea threats. Appeals to EU Article 42.7 or an autonomous European Arctic posture only underline the gap between ambition and capability. In practice, resisting U.S. demands does not produce European sovereignty—it shifts the burden of confrontation onto Washington alone.
Brzezinski’s warning—reinforced by Reagan, Thatcher, and ultimately vindicated by Trump’s gas warnings—remains intact: allied cohesion must precede engagement with adversaries, not follow it. Without that cohesion, détente becomes a marketplace, and revisionist powers exploit the competition.
Europe now faces the same choice it faced forty years ago. It can continue to hedge—treating U.S. warnings as excessive, Chinese presence as benign, and Arctic militarization as hypothetical. Or it can engage Washington seriously, accept that Greenland and Arctic sea lanes are frontline strategic assets, and help shape a transatlantic security architecture equal to the realities of Russian and Chinese maritime expansion.
Strategic autonomy does not mean strategic ambiguity. History is unambiguous: when Europe competes with itself to avoid hard choices, it does not restrain great powers—it entrenches its own dependence and invites pressure. The Arctic will not forgive another Ostpolitik.